Today I feel bad for not being crazy enough. Or not hurting enough. Or not being diseased enough. I know this is the depression lying. Telling me that others are soooooo much worse than me and what the hell is wrong with me that I pretend to be sick.
Then I do something that proves my illness like, say, cut myself or pull my hair or bang my head on something to feel better. (Which I haven’t done in years.) Or I walk with a cane or have to take a LOT of pain medication and sleep a lot. (Which I did yesterday – the cane- and should have done today-the sleep.) Or don’t sleep at all. That’s why the start of this is at 2:46 am. Because I’m not ok. Because I am fragile enough to feel like I am actively dying. Or that I am fragile enough to believe I am better dead.
On my good days I wonder why I don’t have a job. On bad days I wonder why I am alive. Stay awake at 4am and make myself feel worse? ( In this case, yes, because my 10 year old was up at 3am and I can’t let him do that.) Or sleep, and still feel bad? (I just went to check on him and he’s still sleeping so lightly that the hall light woke him up.) Some days it is a choice between feeling like crap or feeling like shit.
And here’s where the fun comes in: when you feel like this and people don’t believe you. Whether it is about the depression or about the sleep. Or the pain. They question your medical choices. Your meds. Your pain levels. Your depression. Are you sure you have tried hard enough? What if you walked more? Or tried eating more bananas. I had a doctor tell me recently to “eat more red fruit” to cope with a massively low potassium level. I wish I was kidding. Welcome to finding a new GP. Because I’m pretty sure if that was the answer, my other doctor wouldn’t have called me and said “Your potassium level is super low, please call GP soonest for help with this issue.” And when I called back to to say “Uhhhh Dr K said to eat more red fruit and I’m not sure that’s the answer” and she said “Well, no. Take double the double amount you already take and retest” and my potassium was still low, this kinda lead me to believe that there’s an issue here and it’s not my adherence to the food pyramid. Even though they have totally changed it from when I was a kid and I don’t understand it or remember it any more. Much like cellular level physics and New New Math. This shit is all new and confusing. And I still say doing subtraction is better than guessing and frustrating the shit out of those of us who know the answer.
If not being believed and being treated to “brutal honesty” was the answer, more of us would be walking upright and less of us would contemplate dying as a rational answer to our problems. In my case it isn’t a need for suicide, it’s more of a need to not be here; not be this. To be Other Than Alive but without all the freak out that comes with it. Which seems near impossible to do so I keep doing the alive thing. Which still sucks, mind you. I just can’t come up with a better way to be Other Than Alive. And the honesty thing doesn’t help. I know how you feel about me and my illness. I can feel it when I talk to you over coffee. Or read your Facebook posts. Or just by your silence. If it was honesty I needed, I have a Truth Speaker in my life. She will never lie to me. But she also knows when to tell me Truth. And it isn’t always. And it some cases it is never.
Side note: I haven’t heard from my best friends in weeks. In some cases, years. Because my illness made me too hard of a friend to keep, or I got tired of explaining and apologizing. It’s hard to be a good friend when all you do is need. Money, time, help or attention. In some cases, even asking for gentle treatment becomes too much. Telling people that what they are asking of you is too much, but having a never ending hand out for help. (Spell check just changed “help” to “gecko”. Pretty sure I have yet to ask you all for gecko with my pain. Although, maybe it would help with depression and I’m passing up a perfectly good cure. You never know, do you?)
I’m exhausted and I am out of answers. And time. And money. And ideas. And me. I’m out of me. I once thought of myself as so expansive as to be able to be enough for everyone. Now I feel like I am not enough for even me. And I *have* to be enough. I have too much riding on me to not be.
He’s asleep on my floor. Or at least attempting to sleep, laying on my floor. I think I will join him in at least trying. But not on the floor. I promise to be funny later. Just can’t do it at 4:51 am with a sour stomach and an aching body.